The Test of Time
by May Wormwood
Summary: People look at Cogsworth and see just a fussy, anxious clock, but there is so much more to him…
1. Chapter 1

1

Everyone has a story.

No one's just a background, a sidekick, a piece of furniture in someone else's castle of life. It's just sometimes we don't look too closely, we don't try hard enough to see it. One can miss a lot by doing so, because the most precious things are difficult to see.

But the truth is that not many of us do think about it. Just like Harriet Berkeley. She was a practical kind of woman who never bother herself about ideas or theories which had nothing to do with her life. She was forced very early in her life not to dream impossible dreams, but simply to take everything just the way it was and deal with her problems as best she could.

As the child of a poor clergyman, young Harriet knew her future was limited to two options: marriage or work as a governess. And since there was no suitor to ask for her hand, she decided not to wait any longer for good fortune. She wasn't brilliant or talented in any special way, but she was clever enough to gain some useful knowledge and skills that could help her on the way. Soon she put out an announcement, received an answer and was accepted.

She had no experience, but soon it was clear she was a gifted teacher. Her young pupil loved her, her employers respected her, and most of the house workers act like she was a part of their family. Except one.

James Cogsworth always appeared a bit of an odd person to her. She tried not to judge him, and truly wanted him as a friend, but his actions were sometimes too hard to stand. He always seemed to know everything better than anyone else. He kept bossing everyone around. But that was nothing compared to how he acted toward the master of the house. His loyalty and devotion were so extreme as to be ridiculous to her. She wasn't too independent herself, but what Cogsworth did was beyond her understanding. Always ready to know what his master wanted before he even thought of it himself, always prepared to do absolutely anything he wanted. When the other servants were joking and gossiping about the family, he never took part in it. Even more! He was openly against it. There were moments when she wanted to shout AT him, "Stop acting like his slave, for heaven's sake! Think about your own life!".

Yet, there was something in him that she truly respected. And if not for one night, she would never have realized what it was, and he would never have known. 


	2. Chapter 2

2

This January night started the same as any other. The lights in the house were fading one after another; voices were getting quieter with every minute. The corridor Harriet walked down was completely dark and empty. She gently opened the door to her pupil's room. The child was sleeping peacefully in his little bed. Harriet smiled and wished him sweet dreams in her thoughts. When she closed the door and turned around to go back to her room, she heard someone laugh. The voice was coming from around the corridor's corner. She walked to the corner on tip-toes and carefully looked around it. On the dark side of the corridor she saw two figures kissing and whispering to one another. When Harriet looked at their faces she wasn't surprised who she saw. One was Maggie, A young and pretty housemaid, and the boy with her was Adam, a young man who delivered fresh meat to the house every day from the butcher. Everyone who worked in the house knew about their relationship, but only one didn't accept it.

"Cogsworth wouldn't like it," thought Harriet. It was perfectly known that the house owner did not allow any of the servants to invite anybody into the house without permission. And she was sure Maggie was not allowed to bring her lover to the house. Especially at night.

Suddenly Maggie broke the kiss she and Adam were sharing and said, giggling, "Come with me. I've got something special for you in the kitchen." They disappeared into the darkness of the house.

Harriet smiled to herself. Maggie and Adam were a lovely couple. Both young, beautiful and in love. Who could need more? She felt that something small but sharp and cold started to grow in her heart. Jealousy? Slowly she walked from the place.

She hadn't gone more than twenty steps when out of nowhere someone appeared in front of her. First she heard a voice asking in a harsh way, "What are you doing in here?"

Then in the dim candle light she saw the face of James Cogsworth.

"Walking," she answered, unsure. She always felt unsure in his presence. Every time he looked at her, it was like he was looking for something to criticize.

"Is the hour not too late for walks, Miss Berkeley?" She wanted to ask him the same question, although she knew it was his usual nightly patrol, checking to make sure everything was under control.

"Well?" He was waiting for an answer.

"I was checking if the boy is all right," she finally replied. "And he is."

"Yes, you did right. That's your duty after all." In his tone she heard something that sounded like gentle approval. "But you should take some light with you. It's not safe and proper to walk at night without any lighting." But of course, he always knew best.

He looked at her once more and with a silent bow he turned and walked in the same direction as the couple had a few minutes before. When Harriet realized where he might be going, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Mr Cogsworth!" she called to him. "I just got back from the kitchen, so don't bother yourself. Everything's fine there."

He gave her a strange and sad look. Then, saying "Good night, Miss Berkeley," he turned away to go to his room.

Harriet lay down on her bed as soon as she came to her room. She didn't look IN the mirror before sleep because she knew what she would find there. She didn't say any prayers - there was nothing to pray for. She just wanted to sleep, have strength for another day of life.

But sleep wouldn't come. Harriet had an odd feeling that something wasn't quite right like she have forgotten or done something wrong. And then that smell came. At first it was strange to her, but a moment later she recalled that only burning smells like that. With this thought in her head she rose from her bed and tried to find her way through the darkness to the place the smell was coming from. She circled the corridor A few times. Then she knew. It was the kitchen!

She hurried down the hall, growing more frightened with every step. When she finally opened the kitchen door, Harriet couldn't believe what she saw. The whole table and half of the floor were in flames. Maggie and Adam were trying desperately to fight the fire but it was growing larger and larger with every second. For a moment Harriet stared at the pair surrounded by flames as though hypnotized. If not for Maggie's cry, she probably wouldn't have moved.

"Help!" the girl screamed.

Of course, she should get help.

Like a blind woman, she slowly moved through the dark corridor till she reached someone's door. She knocked urgently and saw that her hands were shaking. When she tried to call to the person behind the door, no words came from her mouth. When the door finally opened, she hardly recognized the person who stood across her.

"What is..! Miss Berkeley? What's happened?" James Cogsworth was looking at her, confused.

"Fire." Harriet felt tears flowing down her cheeks. "Fire in the kitchen. It's all my"  
But he wasn't listening. He had run out of his room and was now rushing down the hall.

"Wake up everyone!" he shouted to her over his shoulder.

After a mad dash from door to door and calling every servant to immediately go help with the fire, Harriet felt she was unable to do anything more. She slowly sat on the floor, leaning her back against the cold wall. She didn't feel anything except chills all over her body. She needed a long, lonely while to pull herself together. When that while finally passed, and her mind was focused again, Harriet decided to go to the unfortunate place. On her way she passed some house-workers whom she had called earlier to help. They were going to their beds, all of them tired and dirty. "That means it's all over, thank God," she thought.

The kitchen door was half-open. When she slowly walked to it and looked through, something in her commanded her to stop. Things were happening in there that didn't require her presence. So she just stood behind the door and watched, amazed.

What intrigued her was not the damage left by the fire, nor the water on the floor or the burned places on Maggie's dress. It was the presence of the master of the house here in the half-burned kitchen, talking calmly with James Cogsworth. But their conversation amazed her even more.

The first words that came to her were said by their master. "It's fine now, Cogsworth. The money shall be taken from your salary. Though I still can not believe it. You! The most responsible man of all!"

Harriet now noticed Cogsworth's expression. She had never seen him so tense and serious, though being tense and serious was not unusual for him. There was also something in his eyes she had never seen before. But what it was, she didn't know yet.

The master continued. "If it was anyone else he would be thrown out in this very moment, but you my dear, loyal Cogsworth... I know it must have been an unfortunate accident."

"Forgive me, sir," replied James Cogsworth without his usual self-confidence.

The old man smiled in a friendly way and clapped Cogsworth's shoulder a few times. Maggie and some other servants watched the two men with fear and fascination. Something wasn't right in this scene.

Then it all came to Harriet. Cogsworth had taken all the blame for the fire on himself! No, it was too hard to believe. He would never sacrifice his own reputation, his own dignity for anything. The Cogsworth she knew would never do this. The one she knew... But did she really know him? Had she ever tried to know him?

She again looked at the scene, now more confused than ever. But at that moment, the master left. He passed Harriet without even noticing her. After that, and when the other servants were dismissed, only Cogsworth and Maggie were left in the kitchen. He asked the girl to sit. He himself stood in the middle of the ruined kitchen with arms crossed. Harriet entered the room as slowly and quietly as she could.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, afraid of what he might respond.

"It is all right, thank you, Miss Berkeley."

"But I don't understand... What happened? Where is the boy ..."

"We should rather ask Margaret. She appeared to know him very well." He looked at Maggie, demanding some reply.

Now Harriet noticed that the girl's face was all in tears, her body was shaking and she was still staring at the floor as though she was afraid to look at Harriet's or Cogsworth's face. When she finally tried to speak, her words were at first hard to understand.

"I'm so sorry. We didn't mean anything wrong. I didn't know it would turn out like this. I'm so..."

"We know perfectly well that you are sorry. Just tell us clearly what happened," said Cogsworth, beginning to lose his patience.

"Oh, Mr. Cogsworth, sir! I'm so grateful! It was so noble what you did. How can I ever thank you?"

"It doesn't matter if you are grateful or not! Just tell us what we want to know!"

Harriet watched Cogsworth's behaviour in amazement. She had never seen him in a state like this. It was almost as though he had feelings, and more, he was actually showing them!

"I wanted me and Adam to have a dinner here together," Maggie began, "with candlelight, wine and everything. We drank some and didn't notice... Some alcohol spilled on the floor, then the lamp crashed and the candles and everything...At first we didn't notice, but then my dress started to burn and everything... everything..." They didn't hear what happened with everything because Maggie's voice broke into loud sobs.

"It's fine, Margaret," said Cogsworth in a calmer tone. "Now go to your room and sleep." But Maggie didn't move from her place.

"I assure you, you won't lose your job," he added. "Maybe that will teach you something."

Slowly, with A silent "thank you" and "good night", Maggie left the kitchen.

After a silent moment, he turned to Harriet. "It's all over, Miss Berkeley. You should also go. There is nothing more to do in here." His voice was calm and quiet. If she hadn't seen what had happened earlIier, she would never have guessed by looking at him.

"I still don't know... why did you do it? What for?"

"Maggie doesn't need any more trouble."

"I never thought that you... I mean, you never..."

"Only because I don't do it often you think I'm not able to help others. To care about them..." He wasn't looking at Harriet while saying this, like there was something embarrassing in his words.

"No, you're wrong!" she interrupted. "I don't think that... I don't think that now... Now when you know perfectly well that I had a chance to stop it before it even started. I'm sorry I lied to you then. I feel so ashamed of myself now, but I really thought I was doing right."

Cogsworth smiled sadly, still not looking at her. He didn't say anything, and for a moment silence fell between them. In this moment they looked at each other, confused but intrigued.

"One can be misjudged so easily," said Harriet, looking in James Cogsworth's eyes. He didn't respond, so she took all her courage that was left in her and said, "I've always wanted you for a friend, though I never knew how to say it. Now i see the simple way is the best. I was afraid of how you would react to me saying this, but now I know there is nothing to be afraid of." She paused for a moment and then she added quietly, "We can be great friends."

James Cogsworth smiled at her for the first time without any trace of sadness. "I would be honored to be your friend, Miss Berkeley."

She gave him her hand and he held it for a long while, and now they both were smiling. 


	3. Chapter 3

3

It seemed that time strated to fly by after that. Harriet's little student was growing bigger every day. She knew that before long he would be sent away to school and that she would no longer be needed. But she didn't think about it too often. Since that memorable night, almost nothing could disturb her OR worry her. She was calm and steady, as though there was nothing in the whole world that could hurt her. And even if there was, it didn't matter, because there was one person on whom she could always rely, who would help her no matter what.

Harriet wasn't surprised when the boy's father told her in gentle words that she should start to look for another job. She thanked him but didn't take his advice. She knew what would happen now. And it did.

James Cogsworth knocked on the door of her room late one evening when the family members were already asleep. When she opened the door, she saw his tense face looking at her with an emotion that she could only describe as fear.

"Good evening," she said to him in a comforting way. He didn't answer, just looked at her. "Come in. Sit down. You look tired."

Without A word he sat in a chair across her. In the ensuing silence, she smiled at him gently and encouragingly.

"You have heard the news, I am sure. The boy will be sent to school and..." She stopped, waiting for him to say something, but when it was clear that he wasn't going to speak, she continued. "And I'm afraid that I will have to find myself a new place, unless..." She paused again, but he was just staring AT her, looking tense and nervous. "Unless I find someone here to... care for," she finished awkwardly, hoping he would take the hint.

She didn't know what else to say to make him speak. After A few moments of silence, she realized that subtlety wasn't going to work.

"But since there is no one here of that sort, since I'm not needed here any more by anyone, I'm afraid I'll have to leave. I'm sure in Italy they will appreciate a good English teacher.

"Italy?" This was single whispered word, but it gave Harriet hope. After a short pause, he started to speak hesitantly. "Are you certain about it? It's distant country, a different culture. And you would be so far away from people you know, far away from..." he trailed off.

"From whom?" she almost shouted.

"From... England. I meant England," he said hastily.

Maybe it was useless, she thought with resignation. Maybe there really was nothing there. She was acting like a stupid young girl full of hopes and dreams. It was time to go back to reality. She was destined to be lonely and live without love. The rest of her life would be spent teaching other people's children, watching others being happy.

"You..." Her words were muffled by tears. "You should go now. I must pack my things, make preparations."

"Miss Berkeley, I..." said Cogsworth, watching her almost in shock.

"I told you, call ME Harriet." Tears were now flowing down her cheeks.

"Miss... Harriet, I need..."

"Oh, stop with that 'miss'! I'm not a noble lady! I'm just a poor governess! Just Harriet! I don't need much. I don't ask for much. Only someone who could love me the way I am. I just want to be safe and loved. Is that too much to ask? Everyone deserves that! Why not I!"

Suddenly he stood up from his chair, walked to the place where she was sitting sobbing, and kneeled in front of her. He took her right hand and held it in both of his. When she forced herself to stop crying, she noticed with surprise that he was looking directly in her eyes. And he was actually trembling. He was trying to say something.

"I... I..." The words seemd to stuck in his throat. "Miss... No, Harriet. I need... must... You can not...! I want to say... I... I do...

"Don't say anything more," she told him in a quiet, soft vice. "I feel the same."

The wedding was a small and private ceremony. So quiet that there was some who did not believe it had happened at all. It seemed almost impossible that those two would ever find anybody to love, not to mention find each other! But life goes on despite bad tongues, and one year after the wedding, young Mrs. Cogsworth gave birth to a boy. They named him Henry. Two years later, the family for whom they worked also blessed with a new child. The lady now had a daughter, which she had always dreamed of. The noble family and the Cogsworths could live happily ever after... but they did not. 


	4. Chapter 4

4

James Cogsworth's wife died when their son was only nine. Now he was the only person who would care for little Henry, raise him, protect him. And he knew all too well that he was not prepared for this role.

Harriet had been a wonderful mother. Almost all of her time she spent with her child, teaching him everything she knew, showing him the world around him.

She was Henry's only friend.

But Cogsworth didn't have much time for his son. He loved him, of course, above all, just as he loved his wife, but the truth was that he barely knew him. He needed his family desperately, but his work was his whole life.

As far as he could remember, he had always been a servant. Since his childhood his father had prepared and his two older brothers for this role. His father was the head of the household in a great lord's court. So was his grandfather, his great-grandfather and all of his ancestors. The name of Cogsworth was well known as a guarantee of good service and loyalty. There were even times when having a Cogsworth in your household was very fashionable.

Now he was torn. How could he compromise HIS duties for his master and raising his son? It sounded impossible to do. Both of them required all of his time, both needed all of him.

His first thought was to send Henry to his brother's family. He and his wife had probably more time and space to raise a child. And since they had three children of their own, it wouldn't be A big difference for them to have one more. And of course he would send them any money they might need for Henry's care. But after all the arrangements wre made to deliver Henry to his new family, his father changed his mind. AS his brother waited for the arrival of a new member of his family, when all Henry's bags were packed, James Cogsworth once more looked on his son's face. He saw his own eyes, his own expression, and above all he saw the only thing left to remind him of his wife. If he couldn't do this for himself, he would do it for her. He would take care of his son. He would do it just as Harriet had done it. He would teach him everything he knew.

His idea was simple. Henry would help him in his everyday work. He would have his son beside him all the time, and he would prepare him for his future life. After all, what better way was there to learn than practice? James Cogsworth was very proud of his plan.

But nothing was as perfect as he wished it to be. Henry's first attempts at his new occupation were nothing but disastrous. When his father watched him he couldn't believe that his own son could be so clumsy and completely incapable of doing the easiest tasks. Where was all of that cleverness that Harriet had so often talked about? The boy was the most incapable creature James Cogsworth had ever seen. Everything slipped out of his hands; everything he touched he lost immediately. He couldn't remember the simplest requests.

But the worst was when somebody tried to shout at him or forced him to make up what he had done. In those moments he always started to cry desperately as only a child can do.  
As time went on, the situation grew even worse. Everyone in the house knew that Henry was a lonely child who had lost his beloved mother too early, so they learned to treat him with all the delicacy they could. But it didn't help. Henry's loud sobs were heard even more often than before.

James Cogsworth was breaking down. What would he do with Henry now that his brilliant plan had failed? He knew very well that his son's despair wasn't anything wrong or odd. It was normal when a child lost his mother... Everything would be all right if he only knew how to talk to him. The lost of Harriet hurt him very much as well, but he didn't know how to share those feelings with his child. He just didn't know how to say it. There were moments when he really tried. He would sit Henry on his lap, looking deeply into his big blue eyes, and would always begin with the same words.

"Listen Henry, my son... I need to talk to you." Here he would always stop, not knowing what to say next. And Henry, guessing what his father wanted to say, would sometimes say encouragingly, "Yes, Papa, I'm listening."

"You're a big boy now, so we can talk like grownups together." But in this very moment James would hange the subject to something trivial and unimportant, scared by Henry's expression. The words just wouldn't come. Every time after this kind of conversation, he cursed himself at what a coward he had proved to be. The sad truth was that he didn't know how to speak about his feelings and emotions. He have never learned that.

And because of this, he couldn't know that Henry had quite the same problem. Just like his father, he could not find the words to express how big his pain was. So, unable to speak, they both lost the chance for their bleeding hearts to heal. And both would probably have lived in this despair for the rest of their days, if not for one little person. 


	5. Chapter 5

5

Little Miss Emma, the daughter of the master and mistress of the house, was delivered to the world two years after Henry and immediately conquered every heart in the household. She was a picture of perfection. She looked like an angel with her golden curls, chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. Everyone adored her every smile and laugh; each new word of hers was welcomed with amazement. Little Emma was like a sweet doll that happened to move and talk. What a wonderful toy she was.

But like every toy, she was sweet and lovely only when being amusing. When she refused to sing a song or recite a poem in front of guests, or when she cried like mad because she didn't get what she wanted, she just annoyed her parents. Years later, after many failures and wrong choices, she'd understand that her family loved only that perfect image of her. But now, she was just a child who needed a little bit more understanding.

Her situation was so different from Henry's, and yet so alike. Emma had everything she could ask for; Henry had lost everything he had when his mother died. Emma was always the center of everyones's attention, while Henry was always a problem they didn't want to notice. But both were lonely children in a great need of a friend.

It was almost impossible for them to meet each other. They lived in one house but in two different worlds. Sometimes Henry saw little Miss Emma walking in the garden with her nurse or heard her playing piano in her room, but he only observed her from far away. He never even tried to talk to her. She was an ordinary child, just like him, but to Henry, Emma appeared as some fairy princess - beautiful but distant.

One day, though, when Henry was ten years old, those two worlds came together and Henry met Emma.

It was one of those hard days for Henry when his father was more occupied than usual with his work and even less patient with him and his clumsiness. On days like this the memories of his mother were much stronger and made him cry harder and louder. So it was quite understandable that on this very day James Cogsworth lost his temper for the first time. He shouted at his son as he never had before.

"All you can do is sob and ruin everything, you useless creature! Get out! Get out right now!"

A moment later he was shocked at the way he had treated his own son. He couldn't believe he could say such cruel things to him. But it was too late now - Henry had run out. Because of James' duties he had no time to go look for him. He could only wish the boy wouldn't do anything silly or harmful.

A moment later Henry was running through the house door and made his way to the garden. He carefully opened the garden gate and looked for some peaceful place where he could just sit and cry, undisturbed by anyone's questions or requests. When he finally found a bench to sit on he heard a noise somewhere close by.  
Henry looked around, a little frightened. Who could have made those noises? Maybe someone had come to shout at him again? But what he saw was not anyone scary who might harm him, but a lovely little girl. Across from Henry stood Emma.

At first the boy was surprised and a little shocked to see the young miss walking in the garden all alone, but when she spoke, all those feelings vanished out of his head.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Henry took off his hat and replied nervously, staring at the ground.

"Good morning, Miss Emma. I'm Henry Cogsworth. It's so very nice to see you."

In response Miss Emma asked him "Can you make wreaths?" When she didn't get an answer, she tried again. "Wreaths. With flowers. Veronique knows how to make them but she isn't free today."

Henry almost choked on his words but he forced himself to answer.

"Yes, I... I know how, Miss Emma."

"That's wonderful!" Emma's eyes suddenly looked brighter than ever. She took Henry's hand, forcing him to walk with her. The boy didn't protest in any way, feeling that he would be happy to go wherever she wated him to. All the way to the place where the wild flowers grew, Emma was talking to Henry as well as to herself.

"It's so good you are here to help me with those wreaths. I've been planning to make them since this morning, but if not for you I wouldn't have been able to make them so the whole day would be ruined and Marian and Guinevere would be so disappointed. They are my favourite dolls. My papa bought them for me but I don't remember when. The wreaths are for them, actually. I hope you're good at making them because I want them to be very beautiful. Are you sure you're good at it?"

"Yes," he answered slowly and quietly, adding after a moment, "Miss Emma."

"Ooh, I'm so glad! Look, this is the place. Aren't the flowers lovely? I expecially love those yellow ones."

"They're...they're marigolds," Henry told her, looking at the flower, although he would have preferred to be watching Miss Emma's reaction to what he had just said.

"And this one. Do you know what this one is?" Emma asked, showing him blue flowers shaped like little bells.

"Those are bluebells, Miss Emma."

Then she showed him one flower after another, asking their names and watching him making little doll-sized wreaths out of them. Now it was Emma who watched, amazed, while Henry was the one who talked. He named all the flowers that grew around them, described step by step how to make wreaths, and explained that it wasn't difficult if you focused on what you were doing. He told her the names of all the bugs she had found among the flowers and showed her birds' nests hidden in the trees. All this he did with patience and care.

Suddenly he realized that he wasn't frightened anymore and could speak very easily. He was even quite proud of himself and what he knew. As far as he could remember, he could talk this way only with his mother. Only she truly listened to him, interested in everything he was saying. And Emma's face when she litened was so much like his mother's.

"You really know a lot," said Emma to Henry when the wreaths were ready. "Veronique, my nurse, knows a lot, but not such good and useful things."

"My mama told me all this. She really loved nature." Henry couldn't believe he was speaking about his mother so easily. Talking to Emma felt so comfortable.

"Your mama must be very smart," said Emma.

"She was. She's not here any more."

"Why? Did she move somewhere?"

"To... to heaven."

For the first time Emma looked awkward, not knowing what to say. And for the first time their eyes met.

"Please don't be sad. I didn't want to make you sad!"

"I'm not sad, Miss Emma,"said Henry, smiling, but the tears that flowed down his cheek said differently.

When Emma saw how hurt the boy was, a great compassion started to grow in her young heart. although it was so inexperienced, it already had its own pains. She felt that somehow she was the one who could understand him, even if she didn't know how to express it. After a long period of silence, broken by Henry's single sob, her feelings formed into words. suddenly she cried, "My mother doesn't love me."

Henry stopped his sobbing immediately and looked in shock at the girl who had been acting so confident just an hour ago and now was crying just like him. When the first shock passed he understood what she had just said, and that scared him even more. He forced himself to stop crying and tried to comfort her as gently as he could.

"You must be wrong. I'm sure you are wrong. All mothers love their children."

"Not mine!" Emma almost shouted. "Sometimes she likes me. Sometimes when I'm dressed nicely and play piano when guests are around she likes me. When I behave and stay with Veronique she likes me. But when I ask her something, when I want to play with her or just be with her, she doesn't like me at all. At all! She always says I annoy her..."

Hery didn't know how it happend, but a moment later he found himself embracing Emma warmly. Slowly her sobs quieted. Finally she stopped crying and hugged him in return.

"I like you, Miss Emma. I promise I will always like you."

When James Cogsworth walked to the garden some time later to look for his son and Miss Emma, he found the children wandering together hand in hand, watching the nature around them and sometimes speaking to each other. He stopped for a little while to look at the picture they made. There was something beautiful and innocent in it, but also very improper. Two children from different classes, different worlds. James' first thought was to make it stop immediately to avoid all the consequences. But then he looked at the scene once more and, smiling to himself, he thought, "Henry looks so happy. I can't remember him being happy since Harriet's been gone. And it's only children playing together. Soon they will realise how different they are and it will all end. It wouldn't do any harm to anyone if they are friends for a while. I'm sure I am right."

But the truth was James couldn't be more wrong. 


	6. Chapter 6

6 

Ever since Henry had begun working with his father seriously, every day seemed to be exactly like the one before. He didn't complain, though. There was something safe and beautiful in this continuity. Finally he could feel good in his own skin, mostly because what he did was appreciated by others. But this appreciation didn't come out of thin air. To everyone, it seemed that Henry had chenged, but the truth was that he had become himself again - the Henry he'd been before his mother died. His good fortune had given him another wonderful chance. Finally he found himself able to work and learn. Even so, in some ways he was still the same nervous and touchy "young Cogsworth" who, when he was doing something, preferred to do it alone and by himself. But the rest of the servants didn't mind. Nor did his father. They accepted Henry's way of working as long as he was good at it. And Henry became better at his job with each passing day. It seemed that the Cogsworth gene hadn't lost its way after all. Henry was growing up to be a perfect butler, just like all the other Cogsworths before him.

Only one person in the house knew for sure from where that change had come from. Although other might have their ideas, James knew the change came from the garden, led by Miss Emma's little hand. Since the evening when James had found his son playing with their masters's daughter in the garden, he had his eye on the boy and his new friendship, though he tried to convince himself there was nothing wrong in it. He observed how Henry trasformed from a cry-baby to a responsible young boy. He watched him reading and improving his every skill to impress his friend. James Cogsworth had no illusions. It wasn't him from whom his son expected applause or appreciation. But as long Henry was happy, his father would be happy too.

As the time flew by, the relationship between the children grew deeper and stronger. They found in it something that had been lacking in their lives before they had met. They had someone to talk to and someone to listen. When they were wandering hand in hand in the garden or playing imaginary lives somewhere outside the house they could feel like equals. They _were_ equals there. In the house, however, everything was different. Emma had her room, her nurse, and after some years, her own teacher. Henry lived with his father, several floors below, where he had to be always prepared to help him and work harder with every year.

Of course, the children didn't think about it in those days. Only their everyday meetings were important. The world Henry and Emma had discovered or imagined together was most precious. They had no time to realise that the gap between them was growing just as they were.

Miss Emma was as lovely as ever but she was no longer a little girl. To everyone she was now a young lady, though she didn't feel nor act like one. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew that the end of her childhood would also be the end of her only friendship. And that was the last thing she wanted. There was nothing in the world she wouldn't give to make it last forever. She still wanted to see herself and Henry as children lost in a magical garden, just the two of them, with nothing and nobody to separate them.

Henry, after his seventeenth birthday, was working as a full time servant. He was still mostly helping his father, but now he had so many duties that there was barely any time for his meetings with Emma. At first he hated the fact that they could meet only two or three times a week, yet he knew he musn't complain. But after few months, he was rather glad of the idea. For some time he had begun to feel awkward in Emma's presence. This feeling grew even stronger when he realised that she didn't share it. What was wrong with him? She was the same wonderful girl he had met years ago, wasn't she? So why was he feeling so strange?


End file.
